


Morgenstern Flesh

by hurtfairchild



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Background Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Blood, Breast Fucking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Gags, Gang Rape, Graphic Description, Kidnapping, Lace Panties, Multi, Name-Calling, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurtfairchild/pseuds/hurtfairchild
Summary: “Sh, sh, Morgenstern. There’s no use,” he said, his tone trying to be soothing but only coming out creepier. His hand caressed her hair. “We’re only going to let you go once we’re done taking what’s owed to us. You should understand… Valentine has done such horrible things to our families… The Circle took our loved ones from us… It’s only fair we take something too. Besides… you’re way more attractive.”He was standing behind her, his other hand coming to rest on her lower back. She could feel his presence right behind her, his hand through her clothing, heavy, too heavy. She wanted to puke. The way they held her down, the physical proximity, the lack of weaponry…--------------Clary is Valentine Morgenstern's daughter, and there's a group of Downworlders that don't care that she's not her father. All they want is retribution from what Valentine has done to them.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Morgenstern Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Hope you read the tags because this is going to be as intense as promised!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, don't hesitate to leave kudos and/or a comment!
> 
> BTW: This is set in early 2B, so like... 2x13 ish!

The ground was cold underneath Clary as she regained consciousness. A heavy pounding resounded through her head, the pounding of her blood rushing to the surface. She was cold, cold to the bone, and there were things wrapped around her, keeping her to the ground. 

She inhaled, blinked, her eyes desperately trying to focus on whatever was around her. As she breathed, something moved against her mouth. She shifted away, frowning. It was only a leaf, she realized. The ground was actually covered with leaves. 

She was in some sort of… forest. Weird. She remembered the asphalt of Manhattan, rough against her cheek as she lost consciousness. Her head pounded even more, as if reminding her of what had happened. 

It played in her mind like a movie in reverse. The hands on her, the rough asphalt against her cheek, the fall, the seraph blade sliding out of her hand, the pain blooming against her skull, the feeling that someone was watching her.

She’d been attacked.

Still dizzy, she tried to get to her feet. Something clinkered, and her limbs were stopped in their motions. She blinked, forcing her eyes to focus on what was keeping her down against the cold, and somewhat humid, ground. 

It took time, a couple fractions of seconds that stretched into minutes in her mind, her heart pounding too hard, her body aching everywhere. Her eyes finally focused on what was holding her. 

Strong shackles, thick and tight, circled her wrists and ankles. A short length of chain kept each metal band from straying too far from the hooks that had been fixed into the floor. Other chains, thicker, heavier, made to keep wild animals at bay had been draped over her body. The heaviness of them was suffocating.

She groaned, the sound resounding in the empty room she’d been left in. Twisting her body, she started getting the chains off of her as quietly as she could. Whoever had left her in this room, whoever had arranged the chains over her body so they would weigh her down, could come back in seconds if she wasn’t careful.

She shuddered. What were they going to do to her?

It had just been a normal patrol, one so simple she’d been sent on without anyone to watch over her. She hadn’t been a Shadowhunter for long, but they’d trusted even her to get through it without getting hurt.

She huffed a little. Right. So easy they’d trusted even her, and she’d managed to get herself kidnapped.

Slowly, breathing in as much as she could in between the chains, Clary slid them off. Her entire body ached in time with the pounding in her head, still trying to heal from the fall. Whoever had taken her didn’t apply an iratze. She would have to, as soon as she could. She was afraid of what could happen if she fell unconscious again.

She willed her mind not to think of why they’d taken her. She had better to do.

Her nails dragged over the heavy, roughened by use, metal, and as she pushed the last length of chain off of her body, she couldn’t help the pained sound that escaped her throat.

It fell off of her chest with a rattle and she stopped breathing, stopped moving, praying to whoever was listening to her that they wouldn’t come. 

Her heart beat was too loud. Her breathing was too loud. Even her eyelashes fluttering as she blinked, despite trying desperately not to, was too loud. And yet, they didn’t come. 

Time seemed to both slow to a crawl and move incredibly fast. When Clary started moving again, she had no idea how long it had been since she’d woken up. 

She needed her seraph blade. Or her stele. Or both. She reached down for her holster, her fingers padding for the cold metal of her weapons. The leather of the holster was still wrapped around her thigh, but the seraph blade that was there was gone. 

Fuck. She shifted on the ground, leaves gathering against her as she reached for her other thigh, and the pocket where she prayed her stele would be. Tears of relief rose into her eyes as her fingers closed around the cold adamas. 

A light rune would probably only make matters worse. She had no idea if there were windows to the outside, windows through which her captors would see the light of her runes. She settled to first activate her iratze. 

The rune warmed against the skin of her throat, and she felt the ache in her body and the pounding in her chest dissipate. Perfect. 

Clary was more aware of her surroundings now. She was in what seemed like a cell, but the leaves and flower petals scattered on the floor told her that she could be in the Seelie Realm. 

She couldn’t see windows, nor could she see her seraph blade anywhere. She’d have to deal with the stele only. It could work. The tip of it was sharp enough to cut through skin and kill vampires. She guessed it would work correctly on Seelies as well. 

Taking a deep breath, she started drawing unlock runes over her shackles. She’d learned those runes very carefully ever since her time in Iris Rouse’s basement. She shuddered at the memory.

The shackles fell away, clinging against the humid stone floor under the leaves. Clary bit her lip. She had to be careful. 

The last shackle fell from her right ankle and she got to her feet. Her heeled boots would make more noise than necessary against the floor, she feared. She forced herself to calm down. She would be okay.

The door of the cell was made of wood with metal hinges and it was easy to force her way through with a couple of runes and a kick. It crashed into the ground loudly, and Clary felt her heart stop beating.

Again, she froze herself, a statue in the darkness of the cell. No footsteps, nothing. Not even a single sign of life outside. She started breathing again, and stepped out of the cell. 

The corridors were a little damp, overgrown with vines and moss, and more than once she slipped. It was dead silent, too. The utter and complete lack of life made her feel cold, goosebumps erupting on her skin, below her clothing, her entire body tightening in the cold.  It was as if these corridors, maze-like and dark, had been deserted for centuries. But even the life of nature could barely survive in this place, she noticed. There was no rustle of leaves in t he wind, no noise of bugs making a home in between the stones of the walls.

She kept walking, her stele brandished like a sword in front of her. Maybe it would impale an assailant, out of surprise. She kept that hope close to her chest as she pushed forward, deeper into the corridors, towards where she hoped was an exit.

She turned to the left, trusting some sort of instinct that told her that it was the right direction. 

Ahead of her, the narrow corridor suddenly opened into a wider room. Clary inhaled deeply, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Her hand lowered the stele slightly as she took a step forward, studying the walls for an exit.

Hands fell onto her out of nowhere, bodies coming out of the shadows to grab her. Nails dug into her jacket, fingers’ grip on her so hard she could feel pain radiating from it. Her stele was grabbed, thrown out of her hand.

“Hey!” She screamed, struggling. 

The two men that had grabbed her were much taller than she was, much stronger than she was, even after training, especially without a Strength rune. She kicked, screamed, tried to bite off any sort of body part that came close. They were stronger.

One of her arms was cruelly twisted behind her back, and she made a whine of pain. 

“Let go of me!” She screamed still, and tried to wriggle out, only for the man to tighten his grip on her arm. Her body stilled, as if she knew that one motion could completely dislocate her shoulder. 

They dragged her away from what could have been an exit, away from her stele that now laid on the floor, useless.

“Let me go!” She repeated. 

What were they going to do to her? Why had they kidnapped her in the first place? 

The two men’s grip was like iron around her arms. She would have bruises, she thought, and she almost laughed at herself. As far as she knew, bruises would be the least of her worries.

She was pulled down a flight of stairs that led her farther away from the surface, from the outside, from freedom. Her legs were basically useless as they dragged her, like a ragdoll. Her feet hit the steps regularly, and she struggled to choke back a sob. 

When they finally let go of her, she tumbled to the floor, tasting dirt. Her shoulders and arms hurt from being forced to get there. She immediately got to her feet and rushed towards the staircase.

She twisted her ankle on the way, pain screaming through her leg and foot, but she kept running.

They caught her before she could get to the first step. 

Her captors pulled her back brutally, throwing her towards the ground again. She fell backwards, squeaking in surprise, fear and pain. She hit the ground, hard. She could barely breathe.

“There’s no use in trying to get away, Morgenstern,” one of her captors explained. His voice was deep, low, predatory. “We’re so far from New York you’d die from old age before getting there.”

Clary breathed in finally, looking around the room. The one that had spoken was tall, broad-shouldered, with a hard-angular face. He towered over her, smirking down at her.

“What do you want from me?” She asked. Her ankle was painful, and she knew that if she tried to run again, the man that stood at the bottom of the staircase would catch her. 

The one that seemed to be the leader kept going. “After everything your father has done to our people, it’s time we get something in return. A bit of… comfort after the effort, if you will.” 

“Your people?” Clary repeated, as she forced her mind not to focus on what the thing they wanted was. 

The leader’s smirk got even more twisted. He took another step forward, and as he stepped into the light more clearly, his eyes shone bright green. 

“You’re a werewolf,” Clary whispered, looking around the room at the rest of those who had captured them. There were more than three, but with the shadows and the pain, she couldn’t see exactly how many. “I’m friends with the werewolves. I’m friends with the Downworld,” she tried. “Luke Garroway, your Alpha, he’s my father, and-”

A hand landed, hard, on her cheek. Her head whipped to the side, painfully. The slap hurt more than her ankle, suddenly, her cheek radiating hot white pain. He’d used his werewolf strength. She could only hiccup in pain and surprise.

“Your father is Valentine Morgenstern,” the leader snarled. “And it’s time we get what he owes us.” 

He reached for her, and his hand grabbed her hair, roughly. She whined with pain as he dragged her by the hair, away from where she’d fallen and towards what seemed to be a stone altar.

Mirrors covered six of the twelve walls of the great room, and she could watch as the leader dragged her struggling body to the stone altar.

Dirt was covering half of her jeans and her jacket, her grey tank top askew underneath. One of her legs was obviously in pain, and her arms were flailing as she tried to grab purchase of the leader, to get herself away from him.

Her red hair was messy in his grasp, curling around his wrist. Her face was flushed somewhat, red blooming on her cheek where he’d struck her. Her eyes were wide, terrified. 

He let go of her, hair falling around her face, blocking her view of her sides, when he got to the altar. Her torso was flat against the cold stone, bent over the edge of it, her toes barely scraping the floor. There were leaves on the altar too, she noticed.

Her mind screamed at her to get into another position, any other. 

She tried to wriggle her way into another position, one where she could kick at the captors, but she couldn’t. The leader had beckoned two other men forward, and they grabbed her arms. 

“What are you doing?” She shouted, struggling. “Let go of me!”

The two men took what seemed to be rope, and tied her hands behind her back. The rope dug into her skin painfully. They stepped away as soon as they were done.

The leader shushed her. “Sh, sh, Morgenstern. There’s no use,” he said, his tone trying to be soothing but only coming out creepier. His hand caressed her hair. “We’re only going to let you go once we’re done taking what’s owed to us. You should understand… Valentine has done such horrible things to our families… The Circle took our loved ones from us… It’s only fair we take something too. Besides… you’re way more attractive.” 

He was standing behind her, his other hand coming to rest on her lower back. She could feel his presence right behind her, his hand through her clothing, heavy, too heavy. She wanted to puke. The way they held her down, the physical proximity, the lack of weaponry… 

They wanted to fuck her. No, they wanted to  _ rape _ her. 

“NO!” She screamed, struggling even more. “Please, no! I didn’t do anything to you, please!”

“We don’t care what you have or haven’t done,” the leader snarled. “We’ll take what we want. You, Morgenstern, don’t get a say.”

Clary felt tears well in her eyes, blurring her vision, as the leader’s hands moved away from where they’d been. They slipped under her hips, and started to tug at her belt. 

“No!” She screamed. “Please, no!”

Whatever she did, the hands holding her down were too strong. Without her stele, without her blades, she was useless. The only thing she could do was cry, and beg, as the man behind her only came closer, his half-hard cock pressing against her ass through their respective clothing.

“Should we just cut through her jeans, boss?” One of the men she assumed had been holding her down asked. 

No, no, please, no. Clary screamed, wriggled against the cold stone at the question. No, no. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be in this situation. 

“We’ll take care of her clothing after I’ve had my go,” the leader muttered. He held out a hand and was given a knife. 

Clary struggled even more, trying to get away. Her hips were trapped between the stone edge of the altar and the man’s hardening dick. She choked on her sobs. 

“If you keep moving and I cut you, it’s only your own damn fault,” the leader growled as he took a step backwards. 

Clary reluctantly stopped moving as she felt the sharp tip of the knife cut through the seat of her jeans, then through her panties.

The leader whistled. “Lace, huh?” He chuckled. “Did you prepare yourself for us?” His teasing was cruel, and it made Clary sob a little harder. 

Her legs were kicked farther apart. She heard as the man behind her undid his belt and slid down his zipper, and closed her eyes. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this.

“Please don’t,” she begged. Her voice was broken, small. She was far from the fierce Shadowhunter she thought she’d become. 

He grabbed her hair again, forcing her head up. Her eyes opened despite herself. She felt the tip of his cock line itself with her pussy. His eyes shone bright green in the darkness. She saw a couple of people moving around them. Tears ran down her cheeks. He braced himself, pulled her hair harder and thrusted himself in.

The cock ripped her open. She screamed, her legs kicking out uselessly. It was too big, too dry, too much for her. She was too short to reach the floor and have some sort of leverage. She wanted to puke. 

“Get me the lube,” she heard the leader say, and he pulled out.

She breathed in as much as she could. She felt raw and in pain, and she could see her face in the mirror in front of her. She hated that she was relieved that he was getting lube. She hated that she could see her own relieved eyes, more hazel than green in the low light.

A thumb pressed down against her clit suddenly, and started rubbing. What? 

“Gonna get you wet somewhat. It’ll be nicer for all of us, Morgenstern,” the man growled behind her.

“Please…” Clary sobbed. She didn’t know if she was thankful or scared of what ‘all of us’ entailed. How many were there? 

He rubbed at her clit, sending warm pleasure through her body. She fought it as hard as she could, fought the warmth and the wetness that were pooling to her pussy, pulling her resistance down with them. 

The leader forced her body to comply, forced her body to prepare itself for him, and Clary could only cry against the stone altar. It had been cold, but it was now warming up under her struggling body.

Soon, she was wet enough for his taste. He roughly shoved a finger inside of her. She tried to close her legs, twisted and struggled, but she couldn’t get him out. She couldn’t stop anything from happening. 

“Please, don’t, I’ll do anything, please…” She sobbed, words jumbled. 

Cruelly, the Angels had decided that this time, she didn’t get a new magic rune to get all of these people away from her. They had decided that this was going to happen to her, that she, for some reason, deserved to be raped by God knew how many people.

The leader grabbed her hair again, and Clary wished he didn’t have such a thing with hair pulling. Else she wouldn’t be forced to look at her face growing paler and more terrified as he lined himself up again, and thrusted in.

It seemed she’d forgotten how big he felt. Clary screamed again, less out of pain and more out of fear, and grief. This time, he didn’t stop and pull out. It seemed her pussy was now to his taste.

She felt his hips against her ass. At least there was still her jeans in between them, even as his cock was deep inside of her. His other hand grabbed her hip, pulling her harder into him. She whimpered.

He started thrusting in and out of her, hard. Clary could feel the tears on her cheeks, could feel her body moving against the stone altar, the edge digging into her hips on every thrust, the way he pulled on her hair in time with his thrusts. His cock filled her deeply. 

Fuck. She’d barely had any experience before. 

“You’re so tight, Morgenstern, so good for me,” the leader growled. “What a good little Shadowhunter whore.” 

Clary let him. She didn’t fight more, not when her hands were tied, her feet barely touched the floor, and his hand pulled painfully at her hair. He was rough, thrusting into her like she was a toy. 

She could hear punched out little sobs of pain and pleasure, high-pitched and whiny. She realized they were hers. Every time he thrusted deep into her pussy, she made one of those little noises, and they resounded through the big room.

He growled down at her, grabbed at her hip too hard, even through her jeans. Clary whimpered. 

His cock was deep inside of her, longer and thicker than the one she’d ever had before. She couldn’t fight the hints of pleasure that made her thighs shake regularly, when her body forgot that she didn’t want it. 

Simon… Jace… Clary tried to force her mind to imagine that it was either of them inside of her, but she couldn’t. They would never treat her that way. They would never tie her up like this, and take her even as she pleaded for them to stop. They would never grab at her hair like this, force her to watch as they raped her.

Their eyes would not turn bright green as they started to fuck her even harder, even faster, and it wouldn’t make her wish she could just fall sleep and not live through this. 

The man fucking her was getting rougher by the second, his thrusts harder and faster, painfully so. They were growing more erratic too, and Clary knew somewhat that it meant he was getting close.

She tried to count the thrusts before he came but failed. He slammed in eventually, hard, deep, making her cry out. His growl was just as loud as her grief. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth open to, her cry turning silent as he came deep inside of her. It was warm and wet and too deep, too much, and her face creased with sobs.

He finally let go of her hair and her face hit the stone. It was cold against her warm forehead. 

It was over, she thought. She’d survived.

The leader pulled out of her then, and she stayed bent over the altar, her body unable to move, her legs spread apart, her pussy exposed by the large cut into her jeans and dark red lace panties.

Clary focused on her breathing and the pounding of her heart. She closed her eyes, and breathed. 

Hands were on her too soon after the leader had moved away. She tried to fight back as they flipped her over, her arms digging into her back uncomfortably. They took off her boots and socks, unbuckled her holster, and started taking off her pants. 

Clary started struggling again then. 

“Please!” She pleaded. “Please, you’ve had what you wanted! Let me go!”

They slid her pants off of her legs. She tried to kick them, but she could only flail helplessly. Thick fingers wrapped around what remained of her panties and pulled them down. She was naked from the waist down, and she couldn’t cover herself, not when her hands were still bound behind her back.

She screamed, kicked out, managing to hit someone in the stomach. The man she’d hit doubled over, groaning in pain. She managed to feel a hint of pride at that. 

They flipped her over again. “No!” She screamed. They were going to rape her again, right after their leader. A wretched sob came out of her open mouth. 

“She’s so loud,” one of them sighed, and then pressed something to her mouth. She tried to refuse it but couldn’t. A hint of dark red lace told her that they were going to use her panties as a gag. She wanted to puke. A loud ripping sound resounded and something sticky was slapped over her mouth. Tape. 

Right as one of the men was busy shutting her up with her own underwear, her wrists were suddenly freed. It took her a few seconds to register it, long enough for them to pull her jacket off. 

They threw the dark blue jacket to the ground, and the knife that had been used to cut through her pants started attacking her tank top. She screamed through the lace, and started struggling even more.

“She’s a fucking demon,” one voice she hadn’t heard before growled. The man it belonged to had piercing blue eyes that reminded her of Jace for some reason. He grabbed her arms and pinned them down above her head, firmly. His grip was like steel. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” he said. “We’re gonna take care of you.” He grinned down at her, and his grin was full of fangs. A vampire.

The tank top went to join the rest of her clothing on the pile on the floor. The knife went through the center of her bra, cutting through the fabric way too easily. Goodbye expensive bra that she’d bought on a whim, nervous about her first time.

“Matching underwear,” the leader hummed. “God, you really were ready for us.”

Clary closed her eyes. Her breasts were in the cold air, nipples hardening with chills. 

“I was expecting bigger boobs,” the vampire huffed. 

“Can you still fuck them?” another man asked. Clary was losing count of voices. Not that she’d really been keeping much of a count before, if she was honest.

The blue-eyed vampire leaned over, one hand letting go of her wrists to touch her. He caressed the sensitive skin in between her breasts, circled nipples, and finally dug his fingers into her flesh. 

“It’ll do,” he shrugged, moving away. Clary sobbed quietly now. 

They talked about her body like it was a piece of meat. They appraised it, touched it, looked at it like it was nothing more than a toy. Like she was nothing more than a toy. She wanted to puke. She couldn’t. 

They flipped her on her stomach again, and a man she couldn’t really identify came up behind her. He barely took time to take himself out of his pants, his cock already slamming into her. She felt the metal of his belt buckle against the tender skin between her thighs and her ass. 

This one didn’t have the same hair pulling obsession as the leader. He let her head rest against the altar, his hands grabbing her hips harshly. Now that there wasn’t the layers of clothing between her body and the stone, she could feel it chafing against her skin a little. She could also feel that the edge of the altar was a bit sharper than she’d originally thought.

It dug painfully into her as she was forced against it over and over. Eventually, the man let go of one of her hips. A sharp, hard, slap on her right asscheek made her squeal against the lace in her mouth. Pain bloomed as he repeated the action over and over.

It burnt her ass, made it warm and painful and the man seemed to enjoy grabbing it even more now that she hissed out of pain every time. 

He came inside of her earlier than the leader had, making her whine softly as he rutted against her.

When she looked up from the stone, the vampire with blue eyes was looking at her hungrily. She’d almost forgotten that the grip on her wrists was from a living being, not a pair of shackles. 

The second cock was pulled out of her and she was left empty, but not for long. Now that she was naked, it seemed like her captors would be lining up much faster. 

They flipped her on her back this time. The vampire was still holding her hands down when someone approached her, forcing her legs open. She struggled, kicked out, only to get an annoyed hiss out of the man. 

He reached over her, fingers waving and twirling in the air. A green haze floated around his hands, and suddenly, she felt  _ something  _ growing against her skin.

She looked down, terrified, only to see vines wrapping around her. They wrapped around her legs, growing seemingly out of the stone altar. She felt what she assumed was the same sort of plant wrapping around her arms. 

Clary tried to squirm as the vines threatened to tie her down to the altar, like some sort of twisted sacrifice. Something dug into her flesh as she moved, sharp pain bringing a sharp cry out of her mouth only to be muffled by the gag. 

The man, a Seelie, if his pointed ears and the tattoos on his face were any sort of hint, laughed at her demise. 

“My vines have thorns, Morgenstern,” he pointed out. “So be a good girl.” 

The Seelie grabbed her legs, opening them and pulling her towards him a little more. The vines around her arms pulled her back, and their sharp, long, cruel thorns dug into her flesh. 

She was focused on the thorns digging into her and the little rivulets of blood she could feel forming when the Seelie thrusted into her. She groaned in pain behind her gag, her eyes rolling slightly.

It reached deeper than the werewolf had. And that was painful. His cock didn’t feel like the one of the werewolf before him. It was longer, thinner, and… it felt almost like there were ridges, or large beads inside of it. It wasn’t like a human cock, where it was relatively smooth all over, this one was… different. 

Clary groaned as he started fucking her. There was no real care in the way they held her down, in the way they grabbed her. She wouldn’t have expected it, but… it made it all a little worse. 

The Seelie was thrusting in and out of her rapidly, stretching her deeper and deeper. She could feel it reach deeper inside of her, pressing against depths that were not supposed to be hit by a cock. The tip of the penis felt pointier than the ones she’d felt before. It was wrong. It hurt.

Clary’s head lolled to the side. In front over was another mirror. 

She could see herself. She could see her body, pale in the moonlight that came down directly onto the altar now. Her skin was white, flushed in places, bruised in others. The runes against her skin were stark black and looked like the drawings of a child, useless, ridiculous. Dark green vines wrapped around her limbs, tying her down to the light grey stone. Her hair was splayed around her head, almost crown-like. Her eyes were dark, like pools of fear and pain, and the tape was metallic grey over her mouth. 

The noise of a picture being taken resounded and Clary blinked, horrified. The werewolf, the leader, stood over her again, and was holding a very familiar phone in his hand. It was hers. 

“Delete it,” she tried to say, but it came out like a groan behind the gag. 

The leader shrugged. “Just a souvenir,” he smirked. “So you remember us when we’re done with you.” 

Clary sobbed brokenly in the gag, the Seelie still slamming too deep into her. She would probably be in pain for days, from that fuck alone. And there were probably more to come. 

The Seelie came not long after, groaning loudly as he emptied himself inside of her. Clary was starting to feel sticky from sweat, and the inside of her thighs shone milky white, from the semen that had been spilled out of her pussy.

He pulled out, and she hoped that he would take away the vines that dug into her flesh, but it seemed like the group had decided they were good restraints for her. Clary groaned weakly behind her gag, as she felt more hands on her legs, and another cock pressing against her entrance. 

The fourth man slid in with little to no resistance from her this time. She was trying to save her energy to get out of there. The leader had implied that they would let her go once they were done, but she was afraid of the state she would be in, exhausted and broken, if she didn’t stop fighting too hard.

She was already starting to feel tired, the adrenalin, fear and pain exhausting her mind and body. As the fourth man of unknown species fucked her, Clary closed her eyes and let her mind drift away. 

She wished she was at home, in her bed at the Institute, curled up under the covers, fully clothed in her comfy pjs. There wouldn’t be a cock thrusting into her over and over again, wouldn’t be thorns digging into her body and hurting her. She could draw something beautiful, like Jace’s face when he was asleep.

In her daydream, the covers were suddenly thrown back and Jace tore at her clothing, forcing her face into the pillow and starting to fuck her relentlessly. His face was torn in a mask of cruel pleasure as he pounded into her without a care. 

It hurt, and it felt terribly good too. Clary opened her eyes, staring at the carved stone ceiling. It was better to see the reality, not imagine that it was Jace doing this to her. Jace wouldn’t. 

The fourth man came inside of her as well, and she groaned with him as he did so. She could feel her pussy looser than before, she could feel the amount of come that was starting to get too much to stay inside of her without dripping out. The room smelled of sex, sweat and the eart, and the scent was starting to get a little heady.

Suddenly she was moved, and she screamed into the gag as the various thorns stabbed her. She’d been laying on the stone altar length-wise, and she’d been moved roughly so she would be laying width-wise, her head no longer supported by smooth stone and rather falling back.

The blue-eyed vampire was now standing next to her head, looking at her with a smirk. “Your blood smells so good, sweetheart,” he growled, and she felt her heart stop for a second. 

She shook her head behind her gag as he leaned towards her arm, one hand holding her palm as he licked at the skin. She felt his wet cold tongue on her, slippering and wrong, lapping at the rivulets of blood that escaped where the thorns had dug in. 

“Delicious…. Like an angel,” the vampire hummed. He looked a little high almost at the taste of her blood. His lips were tinted with red already. Clary sobbed quietly. 

He bent down suddenly, almost too fast for her eyes, and she felt his fangs tear her skin. She screamed in pain, fear and surprise behind the gag, new tears forming in her eyes. From where she was now, her head upside down, the tears only made her vision more blurry.

She felt fingers inside of her pussy, two or three maybe, and they started thrusting in and out of her almost brutally. Her mind floated between the fingers inside of her, giving her an almost painfully fast pleasure, the thumb that had been suddenly added against her clit, rubbing her raw, and the fangs in her wrist. She couldn’t help the moans and groans muffled behind her own lace panties.

Some hands closed on her right leg, pulling it apart. They pressed her leg down to the side, freeing her thigh. Another tongue, wet and cold, licked at the remains of come that stained her flesh there. Within seconds, another pair of fangs had bit into her thigh.

She came immediately. Her eyes rolled back, her body seized against the vines that trapped her. Her mind flashed white, the sharp pain contrasted by the fingers over her pussy, the vampire venom making her head swim in pleasure, dizzy and high as if she’d just taken some sort of drug. 

Cheers erupted around her as the one that had been fucking her with his fingers kept going, fingering her through her high. Her body tried to curl away from the hand that plowed at her cunt, but she only managed to hurt herself more on the vines.

Tears ran over her face as she came down from her orgasm. Her body lay limp on the altar, her head swimming in pain and pleasure. 

Everything felt so far away. Clary barely registered as the hand pulled out of her, and as the vampires moved away. She blinked absent-mindedly as the shutter noise of a picture being taken resounded. 

“Look at this,” the leader hummed, satisfaction clear in his tone, even behind the fog in Clary’s brain. “Valentine Morgenstern’s daughter, coming from being bitten by vampires and fucked by a wolf… I wish your father could see now, slut. I’m sure he’d love to see how his precious daughter’s cunt was ruined by demons…”

Clary whimpered in her gag. Valentine would slaughter them all for what they’d done to her. So would she, if she could. 

He turned to the rest of the people around her. “Who’s next?” 

One of them stepped forward. “Now that she’s broken, I want her mouth,” he said. “You saw it like me, it looked like it was made to take a dick.” 

The leader nodded, magnanimous. The man stepped forward, and suddenly ripped the tape off of Clary’s mouth. Clary cried out in pain at that, but still laid there limply as he dug into her mouth to take out the spit-soaked ruins of her panties. 

She should bite his dick, Clary thought. Hurt him like they hurt her. The man took his cock out of his pants, and grabbed Clary’s hair, lining himself up with her still closed mouth.  _ They’re never gonna make me open my mouth again _ , she thought hazily, right as fingers pinched her nose. 

Fuck. Within seconds, she was opening her mouth wide to gasp for hair, and the man’s cock was pushed inside of her without mercy. Clary choked.

It was too big, too much, too deep in one go. She’d only ever blown a guy once, and her current assailant was going much deeper without caring about her. She gurgled around his cock, her throat fighting the intrusion as he tried to press in deeper.

Clary’s mind was still hazy from venom but her body knew better. She started struggling against the vines harder than before, thorns scraping her over and over as she struggled for air, for anything that wasn’t the dick in her mouth cutting off her air supply and making her gag.

She screamed around the dick, trying to force the guy out of her. 

“Well fuck me,” the man chuckled. “I thought she was calm now.” he pulled out for a second. 

Clary took in a deep, labored breath, only for it to be knocked out when the man slapped her, hard. She groaned in pain at it. 

The guy took advantage of it to thrust into her mouth again, groaning loudly. “Someone fuck her cunt to keep her busy.”

Within seconds, there were hands on her hips and a cock thrusted into her. The man that was trying to fuck her mouth was right though. Clary’s mind was too tired from the past several fucks to focus on both intrusions at the same time.

She kept choking as he slid again into her throat, but now there was something else happening to her, someone else holding her down, and she couldn’t wriggle and fight as much anymore.

The man started fucking her mouth in earnest, fast and hard like he would have fucked her pussy. She choked and gagged, crying quietly around his cock. His balls slapped her face rhythmically, and she could only smell sweat and musk, making her gag even more. 

She groaned a little from the cock pounding at her oversensitive and tired pussy, the noises muffled by the dick in her mouth. Her mind was almost blank now, exhausted and broken into submission even more than with her orgasm.

She could distantly feel hands on her, stinging from where the vampires had bitten her, but it was so far away, so ridiculous. She choked, her spit and the precum from the man’s cock spilling out of her stretched-open mouth and onto her face. 

The man sometimes pulled out enough for her to breathe in a pained, desperate breath before starting again, making her choke and gurgle on him even more. Her lips felt almost numb from where they were stretched out. The sound her mouth made as it was pounded by his cock made her want to sob. She was running out of tears.

Another load of come filled her aching pussy, and it only took a couple of thrusts for the one in her mouth to follow. He slammed in hard, harder than necessary, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to talk normally for a moment afterwards. 

She choked on his load as he came down her throat. She managed to swallow some but coughed the rest onto her own face. 

Someone else grabbed her legs and pushed them apart. At this point, she didn’t know if that person had already fucked her or not. She didn’t really know if she cared.

She gasped loudly, panting as the cock was taken out of her mouth. Coughing, she tried to breathe, fear tightening her heart as someone else stepped up. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s your tits that I want,” the blue-eyed vampire cooed. He’d taken off his pants, and walked closer.

He was taller than all of the others, she noticed. Tall enough that he could just slide her to him and let her head hang in between his legs. She felt his hands on her breasts, pulling them together uncomfortably.

His cock was colder than the other ones. He kept her breasts pushed flushed together and slid his cock in between them, starting to rut against her, hard and fast. Clary panted, and her eyes looked around whatever she could see.

It was all upside down, but there was a mirror in front of her. Clary swallowed, and her throat ached. She could see herself. Her face was shadows by the vampire’s legs, his hips thrusting over her. His balls slapped her chest.

Her lips were red and swollen, her skin flushed, she was breathing hard. Her eyes were open, but they looked so incredibly tired that it almost scared her. Dried tears, dried drool and semen left white tracks on her face, over her skin, and into her sweaty hair. 

She could see her arms and the blood still dripping from the various wounds. She could see her legs over the vampire’s body, as they had been pulled up by whoever was fucking her pussy.

She looked broken. She looked empty, too, like a broken doll, pale white skin traces by dark vines like cracks, red hair matted and messy. The stone altar was stained with blood and come. So was she.

Clary closed her eyes, and let herself drift away. She stopped counting the cocks, stopped caring about the positions and the pain of the thorns in her skin. They disappeared behind a veil of exhaustion.

When Jace found her, she was laying on the stone altar still, asleep, pussy loose and dripping semen. She never remembered how many times she’d been fucked and by how many people. She only knew that it hurt and that she wasn’t able to sit correctly for days afterwards.

She found in her phone more photos that she remembered being taken. Her own body, used and abused. Her eyes, empty, her mouth open, as the leader held her head up by her hair. 

From that day on, her pussy quivered every time she heard someone call her ‘Morgenstern’.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed this, feel free to hit me up @hurtfairchild on tumblr! I love hearing back from people <3


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